


Five Things Connor Had to Learn About And One Thing He Already Understood

by woolesbeano



Series: Learning to Live [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1, 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor is still figuring out life, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, but like not with every chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 04:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woolesbeano/pseuds/woolesbeano
Summary: As Connor continues his work at the DPD and his life as a deviant, he learns things about the world that Cyberlife never told him. His experiences are a mix of good and bad, but all have a story behind them. Being a deviant is a learning experience.





	1. Anxiety Attacks

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my other fic A Home for Connor, so if you want, you can read that before this. This fic should be readable without having read the first one, but there may be some moments where the reference something from earlier on. The main thing you need to know to read this is that Connor and Hank are investigating crimes committed against deviants.

Connor drums his fingers against the car’s dashboard, tapping out an aimless rhythm as he watches the buildings pass by outside. They’re driving directly to a crime scene that Connor had saved into his memory the last time they visited the precinct. He’d insisted the point. They’ve made no progress in their investigation, no clues, no suspects, no leads.

His fingers drum faster.

Hank lifts an arm from the steering wheel to rub at his eyes before transitioning into a long yawn. Jazz plays from the car radio. Connor maps the route to the crime scene in his head. Twenty minutes left to go. Possibly more with traffic. The number makes him fidget. He begins to look over the cases in his memory.

**Case File AN1**

**Case Reference: Murder**

**Victims: AP700 Model Androids**

**Case Assigned to: Hank Anderson and Connor**

**Case Status:Open**

**A nearby shopkeeper discovered the two AP700 in an alley. Both androids were missing their left and right leg components, as well as their thirium pump. The androids had numerous broken and chipped pieces, suggesting it was beaten prior to its deactivation. No weapons were found at the scene.**

He wonders if they were a couple or a pair of friends. Maybe just two androids who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

**Case File AN2**

**Case Reference: Murder**

**Victims: ZT200 Model Androids**

**Case Assigned to: Hank Anderson and Connor**

**Case Status:Open**

**A passerby noticed the android hanging by its neck on a street post on Harmon Street during their morning jog. The android was appeared to have deactivated due to blunt force trauma on his head. No weapons were found at the scene.**

He flips through cases in his memory. The words ‘Case Status: Open’ repeat. File upon file of androids who lived just long enough to become free, only to be killed.

His fingers tap faster. He keeps reading.

One android found beaten to death behind a mall. Another was found on the banks of a river, arms and legs corded together. Two androids were found burned and mangled in the fireplace of an abandoned house. An android was found dismembered in a park, body parts strewn throughout the scene.

He barely notices when his respiratory functions increase their pace.

Two androids tied together, frozen in the winter cold. One android shot through the head. An android thrown off a building.

The car lurches to a halt, startling him out of his thoughts. They’ve arrived. Out the window he can see the dangling bodies of three androids strewn up by their necks. Their thirium pumps are missing, and blue blood trails down their shirts. All of their eyes are open, staring at him. Judging him.

He looks down.

He’s been sitting in the car for far too long. Just to the left of him he can feel Hank’s eyes on him, just as he can feel the eyes of the victims. They’re telling him to go, solve the case. Bring in the culprit.

But he can’t move.

He can’t go out there and find nothing. Not again. He can’t look and see the empty eyes of the androids he can’t help. He can’t fail again.

His fingers have stopped drumming.

They’re trembling in his lap.

The rest of his body trembles just the same.

“Connor, Hey.”

He wants to respond. He can’t. His breathing function has picked up, and he can do is suck air in and out.

There’s a hand on his arm.

“Connor, you’re going to be fine, I promise you.”

Hank doesn’t know that.

“Hey, can you do something for me?”

Can he? It seems all he can do is gasp in air and tremble.

“Name five things you can see.”

He realizes that his eyes slid out of focus. With effort he trains them on the things around him.

“The hula girl on your dashboard.” He gets out in between his breaths. “My hands in my lap.” Another gasp outward. “The stain on my seat.” His artificial lungs force the air out. “Your coffee in the cupholder.” He sucks it back in “Your hand on my arm.”

“Good.” Hank gives his arm a gentle squeeze. “Name four things you can touch.”

“My shirt.” His breathing has slowed slightly. He moves his hand as it spasms in fits an jerks. “The car door.” It starts trembling less. “My jeans and the window.”

“Thank you.” Hank’s voice sounds so gentle. “Three things you can hear.”

“Your voice.” He replies immediately before thinking further. “The car’s engine.” He has to focus, think for the last one. “The cars going by outside.”

“Two things you can smell.” Hank prompts

“Your coffee.” He takes a deep breath through his nose. “Your cologne.”

“One thing you can taste.”

He swirls his tongue around his mouth. His sensors pick up the microwave veggie wrap Hank gave him this morning.

“Breakfast.” He concludes

He realizes his trembling has stopped. His breathing has returned to its regular pattern. And he’s wasted five minutes of their time.

“Apologies, Hank. I didn’t mean to hold up the investigation.” He stares at his hands. “I believe I encountered a software malfunction. ”

“Bullshit Connor.” Hank’s rebutts. “I know a panic attack when I see one.”

A panic attack. He searches the definition.

“Hank I couldn’t have had a panic attack.”

It was a malfunction. It was a malfunction and he can fix it and it won’t happen again.

“No offense Connor, but you said the same thing about emotions and being alive. Your track record with this kind of stuff isn’t the best.”

“It wasn’t a panic attack.” he repeats. It can’t have been.

“Connor, it’s alright if it was.” No, it’s not. He can’t be like this. “I get them too.”

Connor looks up.

“Sometimes investigations get to you. You get frustrated or you worry that you won’t solve something important. And you get a panic attack. They fuckin’ suck. I know. But Connor, it’s just a part of being alive.”

A swirl of yellow fills his LED.

“I don’t think I like them.” He mumbles out

“I’d give you some aspirin,” Hanks says, with a small smirk, “But I don’t think it would help.”

Connor gives a soft laugh.

He looks out at the androids once more.

“I care about this case Hank.” The words are spoken softly, like a confessed secret. “I care about this case and I don’t want to mess it up.”

  


“Then we’ll keep trying.” Hank’s eyes are on the androids outside. “One of these fuckers is going to slip up, and we’ll be there when he does.”

He wants to ask how Hank knows that. How they can pretend that it’s all going to turn out okay and they’ll catch someone. But he looks over at Hank and he realizes.

He realizes it’s like how he didn’t know if Jericho liked him. Or if Hank wanted him around. It’s one of those things where even he can’t narrow down the probability of something happening or being true. The entire thing is just a leap of faith and a hope that it’ll turn out alright. And statistically, he reasons, the longer he tries the more likely they’ll find someone.

He looks over at Hank and sucks in a breath.

The lieutenant is right. They’ll manage their way through this case.

Connor opens the door and enters the crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so if anyone is here from the last fic and happened to be waiting for me to post this, sorry. Double sorry to anyone who saw the first chapter of the original version of the sequel. I was surprisingly busy for the first portion of the summer and I also felt I needed to revise a lot. But hey, at least I’m back with a new story? 
> 
> Additionally, just a heads up that this story is going to be much less narratively driven. Stuff will carry over from chapters, yes, but we’re not going to follow Connor and Hank from crime scene to crime scene. So, if you’re up for that sort of thing, please feel free to stick around. 
> 
> Oh, and one more thing! Reading this fic is going to be like Russian Roulette because these chapters are either gonna be angsty or fluffy as hell. Get yourselves ready for that. 
> 
> And guess who finally figured out how to link their tumblr! If anyone wants to bug me or give me ideas, throw a message at me. 
> 
> https://woo-lesbeano.tumblr.com/


	2. Video Games

Connor examines the light blue object in his hands, twisting and turning it around. It‘s brick shaped and opened with a click to reveal to cracked screens inside. His internal memory had no records for such a device, although he could tell it‘s some sort of older technology. He tries tapping some of the buttons, assuming there’s some kind of input code to turn it on. Nothing he works, so after a few seconds he sets the device down to move onto other evidence.

He begins to rummage through the drawers next to him, listening in on Hank’s conversation with the apartment’s landlord.

“Look, I don’t know anything about these androids.” The man harshly insists, “I just needed someone to fill the empty space in the building, you know how it is right?”

Hank didn’t grace the question with a reply, instead further drilling him with questions.

“What time did you discover that the androids were killed?”

“10:00,” The man answers, “I heard a commotion downstairs, and I thought it was strange because they’re usually so quiet. I got up the next morning, to collect rent, and all of them were dead. And I knew there’d been threats, but I didn’t think something like this would happen! I mean, fuck, how am I supposed to fill the rooms now?”

“You said there were threats?” Hank’s words are carefully balanced, a forced curtness to them.

“A week ago, I got a letter. It told me to kick every android out of the building.” The man huffs. “I just thought it was some folks angry about the whole revolution thing. I didn’t think it was anything serious.”

Hank blows air out of his nose.

“Do you have any security footage?”

“I’ve got cameras on all the exits and entrances, but nothing near the rooms. I can go grab it if you need it.”

“Go get it.”

The landlord turns to leave the room.

“Jesus, what a fuckin’ prick!” Hank angrily mutters the second the door clicks shut.

“Hank,” Connor warns, with a hushed tone, “he could still be in close enough proximity to hear you.”

“You think I care? He should know he’s an ass.”

Connor gives a soft chuckle at that, and Hank grins at his achievement. He knows that he shouldn’t encourage Hank’s behaviour, but he can’t stand the man either. The lieutenant walks over to the area Connor’s searching, peering over his shoulder at the open drawers. His eye lands on the old technology Connor couldn’t decipher. He snags it and opens it with a click.

“I’m not sure what that is.” Connor explains, “I found it under the dresser.”

“You don’t know what a goddamn DS is?” Hank flicks a switch on the side and the screen lights up. “CyberLife obviously left out all of the essentials.”

The visuals on the screen are barely visible, obscured through cracks and dead pixels. Hank huffs angrily.

“It’d be better if it actually fuckin’ worked properly.” Hank grumbles “I’ve still got the one from when I was younger, and Cole’s as well.”

Hank’s quiet for a moment, examining the console with a sort of mournfulness.

“I wouldn’t mind learning how to use one.” Connor declares, breaking the sudden silence.

For a second he thinks he’s misspoken, as Hank doesn’t respond immediately.

“You better get ready for me to destroy you in Mario Kart then.” Hank says with a chuckle and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The door slams open, and both the detectives’ heads snap towards the sound. The landlord enters, one hand in his coat pocket and the other holding up a holo-screen. He scrolls through the video to just before 10:00. Four figures enter the building, all with masks. There’s a short gap, with nobody in frame before the figures appear again, exiting the building. Their shirts are stained with blue blood.

Hank takes the device, scrolling through the footage once more and flipping through the different cameras. He pauses on the clearest shot of the group and stares at it for a couple seconds before handing the device back to the landlord.

“That’s all we need you for.” He says curtly.

The landlord looks relieved to be dismissed, and disappears through the door. Hank turns to Connor.

“Thoughts?” He prods.

“There are fingerprints on the body, but they aren’t connected to anyone in the current DPD criminal database.” He starts pacing through the room as he thinks through the evidence. “But we know the attack was coordinated, and they gave a warning beforehand.” He stops. “I think it may be useful to look into nearby apartment complexes.”

“We can see if there have been any warning notes.” Hank muses

Connor nods.

******************

They go to three complexes in the area before they find something. A building with five androids, and a note left a week ago. Hank proposes a stake-out, and they spend the rest of the of the day preparing. The lieutenant digs into his closet to find his old DS systems and a couple of game cartridges. Connor works on preparing bagged dinners for the two of them, taking advantage of the opportunity to force Hank to eat something slightly healthier. In the end he has a veggie sandwich, an apple, and a brownie in each bag. He desperately hopes the lieutenant won’t eat only the brownie.

They park the car just to the side of the building at 5:00. Connor predicts that it’s likely the suspects won’t come until later, but he preferred arriving earlier. Hank takes out the game systems and hands one to Connor. The android finds he needs help simply finding which buttons to press and figuring out how to set up some sort of racing game.

He picks the dinosaur character while the lieutenant chooses the man in overalls with a red hat. As the first race starts, Hank’s kart flies ahead of him while Connor desperately begins to tap buttons. After a couple seconds, he manages to accelerate his car directly off of a cliff. It’s at that point he discovers how to maneuver his character from side to side. His dino falls off of the course twelve times in the first lap, and ten in the second. Hank finishes the race before he can start his third lap.

With every course, he falls off fewer times. His sensors get used to the physics of the game, and he finally begins to catch on Hank’s overall man. He can feel LED flicker yellow as he concentrates on the game, determined to best Hank. In one lap he gets into first and can see the finish line, but one well aimed item from Hank pulls the victory from him.

In between rounds he scans the area for phone signals and flips between radio waves. He’s nearly certain the suspects had to have coordinated their attack through messages, either through their phones or some kind of radio. He seems to only pick up the conversations of love-struck teenagers or kids sneaking out, but he still tries again after each round.

At 7:00, they break out dinner. Hank eats the sandwich but refuses to touch the apple. Connor devours everything, including his apple core. Hank balks at this, calling him a ‘goddamn garbage disposal’. Despite eating more, Connor finishes his meal quickly, and finds himself fidgeting in his seat.

He flicks on the DS to explore the system, determined to master the device. He looks through the settings and fixes the incorrect date. After fiddling with the screen brightness, an application catches his eye.

“Hank, what is Pictochat?”

“It’s a messaging app”, Hank says between a mouthful of food. “It was short distance stuff, not connected to wifi or anything.”

Conor touches the icon.

“It says there are five people in the first chatroom.” He announces as he taps into it.

Several messages had already been posted. He scrolls through them.

**blobera: Where are everyone’s positions? I want us to split up this time**

**Tinter: I’m in the convenience store near the entrance**

**Plantboy: McDonalds down the street**

**Stairgoblin: Same**

**blobera: We’re going in five minutes, and go through the back door. There are too many cars out front.**

Four suspects, four users messaging each other. 

They’re communicating through Pictochat.

Connor frantically shoves the DS into the lieutenant's face.

“What the everloving fuck.” The man breathes out

**colesds has entered the chat**

**Blobera has left the chat**

**Tinter has left the chat**

**Plantboy has left the chat**

Connor doesn’t wait to read the rest, instead vaulting himself out of the car and sprinting towards the nearby convenience store. Ignoring a peeled ‘No Androids’ sticker on the door, he barrels inside. His eyes lock onto a man pocketing a DS, and he promptly tackles him into a nearby table, scattering cans everywhere.

The man struggles, thrashing about as Connor tries to grab his handcuffs from his belt. It’s the first time he’s used them, and the man flailing under him does not help the task. He manages to get one hand into a cuff and the second comes easier. Standing, he rattles off the man’s Miranda Rights, ignoring the stares of the few other customers in the store. On the last few words, he abandons the man on the floor, with a call of “don’t move”.

He falls back into a sprint, throwing the door open as he leaves. He spots Hank on his way out, and he shouts “I apprehended the suspect in the store” as he charges onward towards the McDonalds down the street. As he approaches the door, a woman steps out and his eyes land on a mask tied to her hip. A man is at her heels, and a mask rattles against his side as well. He pushes himself to increase his speed, and his feet strike the pavement in a loud beat. The woman looks up at the sound, and for a second their eyes lock.

**Collecting Data....**

**Processing Data…**

**Ann, Losetta**

**Born: 4/13/2002 // Store Clerk**

**Criminal Record: None**

And then she’s turned, her hand throwing open a car door. He calls out to them, ordering them to stop. The door is jerked shut and the man slips into the car beside her. A roar fills the air as the car speeds off.

He stands there for a second, as the car disappears down the street. He stands and his LED spins. He’s beaming. They did it. They found a lead, they found a suspect, they stopped a murder. They have a suspect in custody, the face of another, and a license plate.

He hums out a show tune as he walks back.

The suspect’s in the backseat, face bruised from his encounter with the floor. Hank’s leaned into his seat, one hand rubbing his temple. Connor can hear mutters of “goddamn Pictochat”.

“I have confirmed the face of one of the suspects and recorded their license plate information.” He reports, tone bright. “I also believe that we should check the DS at the last crime scene for fingerprints. It is likely it belonged to one of the suspects.”

“This investigation” Hank groans in response, “is going to kill me.”

“I certainly hope it does not.”

Hank lets out another groan as he turns on the car, but a smile makes its way onto the man’s face. He throws the android his phone, instructing him to pick out some “victory music”. Connor chooses some upbeat showtunes, and this time the suspect in the back groans, earning him a “shut up” from Hank.

Connor grins the entire way back to the precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to everyone for reading the absolute stupidest thing I’ve ever written. If Hank wasn’t trying to get sober he’d slam three beers after the end of this chapter. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my fond memories of Pictochat, and my prayers that it may it be revived on a future Nintendo console.
> 
> Link to my tumblr if anyone cares  
> https://woo-lesbeano.tumblr.com/


	3. Pigeons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is gonna be a bit different in that we’re going to be getting Hank’s perspective for a change. Don’t worry though, next chapter is gonna be back to Connor!

Connor sits to Hank’s side, midway through a long tirade on their case. His hands flit through the air as he emphasizes different points. The only light in the car is from the passing streetlamps, but even with Hank’s poor night vision he can see the excitement in Connor’s eyes. They’d successfully interrogated the suspect in their custody, who’d revealed the names and addresses of the people he’d conspired with. When pushed on the subject of using the DS systems, they’d discovered the suspects had felt that it was the only way to avoid having their messages tracked.

One curious android had ruined their entire operation. The same android regales the story to him, adding in his thoughts about how he thinks they should proceed with their investigation. Whenever Connor reaches a particularly compelling moment in the case his volume swells and his hand gestures get grander. It reminds Hank of a child who can’t control their volume when they’re emotional. He supposes it makes sense, after all, the kid just started getting emotions.

As Connor begins to talk about the interrogation, his volume spikes again. However, a few words in, Hank sees a flash of red in his peripheral vision. The android cuts himself off shoving his hands into his lap. 

“Apologies Hank.” Connor mumbles with a forced quiet, “I didn’t mean to get too loud when discussing the case. You know the details of the investigation anyways, and I shouldn’t be reexplaining them to you.”

Hank sighs internally. Connor makes progress every day with breaking through his programming but old habits keep holding the kid back.

“There isn’t a single goddamn cop at the DPD that didn’t get excited for their first big break.” He argues, “And it’s good to go over the details of an investigation. Maybe we can notice something we didn’t before.” He hopes that the bit of logic he threw in will be enough to reassure the kid to start spieling again.

Connor’s LED spins yellow, and Hank wishes he didn’t have to think so hard about just being excited about something. After a few moments, he starts again. It’s calmer and more timid, almost like he expects Hank to change his mind. When Hank doesn’t say anything, the excitement in the android begins to creep back in. The hand gestures come back, and Hank takes his eyes off the road more than he should to glance over at the display.

“I think that we need to try the same method of interrogation on the other suspects.” He tells Hank, “I believe that we may have favorable results if we - Stop the car lieutenant!”

Both him and Connor are thrown forward as Hank stomps on the pedal. As he groans at the abrupt stop, he watches Connor spring out the door of the car. A few seconds later he reappears holding a small fidgeting pigeon.

Hank immediately recoils.

“No no no Connor.” He protests tiredly, “We are not having a pigeon.”

“This pigeon’s wing is injured Hank.” The android holds the bird out, and indeed, its wing is bent at an odd angle. “If we don’t get it help, it could die.”

“Good!” Hank barks back, “I’m fine without another one of those flying rats in the city.” Connor frowns down at the bird, and Hank intuitively knows that the android is devising some sort of idiotic plan.

“As it is your house, I respect your decision.” He declares, “However, I don’t believe I can leave this bird on it’s own. I’m going to go to Jericho to try to find it some help.” The bird makes a soft noise, and Connor runs his hand across its head. “I hope you have a good night Hank, and give Sumo a hug for me.”

At this the android gently closes the car door before turning to start down the road. Hank leans back in his car seat, a strangled sound escaping his lips. Rolling the window down, he sticks his head out.

“Get back in the car.” He shouts across to Connor. “I’m not letting you walk unsupervised to Jericho in the middle of the night.”

The car door reopens, and Connor carefully arranges the pigeon over his seatbelt. Hank takes a glance down at the creature. Despite its injuries, it snuggles itself into Connor’s arms. Fuckin’ sky rat is probably carrying a million diseases. At least Connor can’t get sick.

“So what’s your plan for the bird after you get to Jericho?”

“I think it would be best if we find Rupert. He is the most likely person to know how to take care of a hurt pigeon.” Connor’s eyes are on the bird as he presumably creates a step by step plan to care for the street vermin.

Hank hands Connor his phone with the unspoken instruction of choosing music out, and the android hooks it up to the car. A few seconds later jazz spills out of the old speakers. The kid must feel bad for making Hank drive to Jericho considering he’s playing Hank’s favorites instead of something he likes.

Stupid self sacrificing android.

They pull up to Jericho, and Connor steps out of the car carefully. As Hank grabs the keys and his phone, he sees Connor’s eyes flicker between the bird cradled in his arms and the entrance of the building. When he gets out, he has to hold the door open for the android, who has both arms taken up by the bird. The kid makes a beeline to the stairwell.

“The last time we visited Markus mentioned that an android had set up an aviary on the rooftop.” He explains as they pass through the door. “Probability suggests that it was Rupert.”

Jericho is three stories tall, an amount that usually would be no feat for either of them to scale quickly. However, with Connor handling the bird so delicately, it takes about ten minutes to reach the roof. Hank takes short glances at Connor on the way up. In the darkness of the stairwell Connor’s like a strobe light, his LED flickering between red and yellow as he cautiously ascends the stairs. He can’t comprehend how Connor cares so much about this feathered rat.

When they reach the top Hank once again holds open the door so they can both make it through. It’s pitch black out by now, and apparently none of the androids thought to set up lights. He steps blindly into the area and chaos erupts in the form of loud flapping and coos. He supposes those were the pigeons.

After a few seconds, his eyes adjust slightly. In the corner of the rooftop he can just make out a larger shape. Connor steps ahead of him and calls out.

“Rupert, I have an injured pigeon here that I was hoping that you could help us with.”

The shape stands at that and walks over to them. Hank can just discern a tattered book in the android’s hand. Rupert sets the book down on a nearby crate before taking the bird from Connor’s hands. He looks at the pigeon with a practiced eye, twisting it about as he examines it.

“She has a damaged wing and string around two of her toes. The wing isn’t bad enough to bring her to a veterinarian, but her flying will be impacted for the rest of her life. I believe she is also dehydrated and hungry.” His tone is even and professional, but his spinning LED gives away his concern for the bird.

He hands it back to Connor before retrieving a pair of scissors.

“Hold her foot steady.” He orders

A snip sounds, and a bit of string flitters to the floor. Rupert goes back into detailing instructions.

“Prepare either a box or cage for her. It would be ideal for you to have a larger cage available, especially for long term. You need to give her warm water in a shallow cup. Put a spoonful of sugar and salt in it. Wait a while after she drinks to give her some birdseed. If you don’t have any birdseed I have an extra bag.”

While listening, Connor starts emitting a vivid red light, and in the brightness Hank can see him fidgeting. He knows what the kid’s thinking.

“We can’t take in the pigeon.” Connor blurts the second Rupert finishes. “We were hoping that you could take him in.”

At this, Rupert’s LED also flickers red.

“I can’t take in your pigeon.” The words look strained as Rupert says them. “This is the only area I’m allowed to have them, and she won’t survive in this environment in her condition.”

Connor clings to his bird, standing rooted to the spot.

Hank eyes the vermin in the android’s hands. It’s leaned against Connor’s chest, head tucked into his shirt.

Fuck.

He can’t believe this is his life.

“We’ll take your bag of birdseed.” He proclaims, breaking the silence. Connor’s head whips around at the declaration. “The bird’ll need some food to eat.”

Connor’s smile vanquishes any possible regret he could have felt. Rupert hands him a hefty bag, which he accepts with a short thanks before turning towards the stairs. Jesus, he needs to get to sleep.

“Oh, and one more thing Connor.” Rupert calls out from behind them, “Give her a name.”

The kid nods dutifully before leaving.

The trip down the stairs is more difficult than the one up now that he’s burdened by both the birdseed and the weight of his actions. On the second floor stairs, Connor pipes up.

“Hank, why are you allowing me to keep the pigeon? Based on past experiences, I am led to believe that you are not fond of them.”

“Because you care about it.” He answers gruffly as he pants through another step. “The more important question is what you’re going to name it.”

Connor scans over the pigeon, staying silent through the last set of stairs. 

“I think I would like to call it Elphaba.” He finally says with a hint of uncertainty, “Elphie for short” 

Of fucking course Connor would name his pigeon after a musical character.

“That seems like a good name to me.” He puffs out.

At the bottom floor, Hank kicks open the exit door, propping it up with his foot just long enough for Connor to make it through. He struggles over to his car and throws the feed into the back. Before they leave, he takes it upon himself to plug his in phone and choose the music. It’s musical shit for Connor and his bird.

He puts the car into reverse and starts the drive back home to the bed he so desperately needs. There’s a soft coo from Elphaba, barely audible over the belting chords of the song.

“I think she likes the music.” Connor remarks

“I guess you chose the right name then.”

Nothing is said for a moment until Connor hesitantly speaks again.

“Thank you Hank. I’m sorry that you have to do so much for me.”

And Hank remembers every reason why he cares so much about this android. This goddamn caring android that wouldn’t even let diseased sky rats go unnoticed. This stupid android that can’t seem to understand why he’s important. 

“Connor, you’re family.” He stresses the words, hoping they’ll get through. “I would do it again if I had to.”

The android falls silent next to him. Hank can tell he’s thinking through the words, replaying them and decrypting every vowel. It’s fine if it takes Connor a while to understand. Hank can always tell him again until he drills it through the android’s thick skull. He’s family.

Fuckin’ loveable android.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was actually  
> 40% - Researching pigeons  
> 50% - Figuring out the pigeon’s name  
> 10% - Actually writing the chapter
> 
> Additionally, I do really think that Connor would like Wicked. I feel like the core idea of people unfairly discriminating against Elphaba would appeal to him, but mainly I think he would love the theatricality of it. So yeah, I gave him a pigeon and named her Elphie. 
> 
> To be honest I just love the idea of Connor and a cute little Rock Pigeon. Poor Hank. 
> 
> Oh and just in case anyone was wondering, Rupert named all of his pigeons after literary characters.


	4. Hot Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am incredibly sorry that this chapter took much longer than usual to come out. This week has been a bit of a mess for me and I kept having to delay writing. Hopefully you enjoy the chapter though!

It’s the third day of a blizzard in Detroit and the worst so far in terms of snowfall. Hank has dragged out an oversized coat out of the closet for Connor, insisting he wear it. Despite the android’s protests that additional clothing is not necessary, Hank foists it onto him all the same. 

After putting on the worn and unneeded jacket, Connor trudges out to the car behind the lieutenant. In the short trip to the car Connor’s hair is blanketed with snow and Hank’s face has turned completely pink. Simply closing the door to the car requires a momentous amount of effort with the interior coated in snow flurries before they can accomplish the task. 

“Fuck I need a coffee.” Hank groans, rubbing his hands together.

He clicks the keys into the slot and turns. The lights flicker on and off, but there’s no telltale roar of the engine. Hank grumbles out expletives as he pumps the brakes and twists the keys again to the same results. Threading his fingers through his hair, he slumps back into the seat. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have some android tech gizmo that would fix the car would you?” Hank sighs out

“I am afraid not, Hank” He instinctively scans the internet for other options. “It appears that Detroit Taxis are only running for emergency situations, and even then at highly increased rates.”

“Shit. Well we sure as hell aren’t walking to work.” He repockets the keys. “I’ll call Fowler and tell them that we can’t get in today.”

“While I agree that it would be beneficial for you to stay out of the snow, I believe that I should be able to-” 

“Nope. There’s no way you’re going out there in this weather. Come on, let’s go inside.” The lieutenant pushes the car door open as the wind tries to force it back shut. 

He manages to make his way out of the vehicle and Connor is left in the quiet of the car. His processor analyzes his options, coming to the conclusion that he can easily walk there. The mission objective of working on the investigation blinks at him, imploring him to ignore what he was told to do. And then he looks back up. Hank’s outside the car, arms crossed and hair tousled about by the wind. Waiting for him. 

He gets out of the car to join the lieutenant. 

When they reenter the house Sumo greets them as if they’ve been gone for years. Hank idly scratches the dog’s head as he walks by while Connor sits down to fully appreciate Sumo’s love. Hank tells him to set up a movie as he leaves the room to call Fowler. The instructions flicker onto his objectives and Connor sets to the task. 

He opens the hall closet where Hank has shoved an abundance of moth-eaten blankets and pillows. Grabbing as many as he can fit into his arms he carries them to the couch, carefully placing them to ensure the best movie viewing experience. As he begins arranging the pillows an annoyed coo sounds from the corner of the room. 

Elphie is angrily protesting her solitude in Sumo’s old dog cage, further illustrating her discontent with aggressive hops. Connor goes to kneel down by the cage, an action that the bird takes as a cue to make more noise. Unlatching the lock, he grabs a pair of pigeon pants that he’d forced Hank to buy and slides them onto the bird. There’s a woof from behind him, followed by the pounding of feet as Sumo charges. The dog skids to a halt upon reaching Elphie, leaning down to sniff her. 

Connor pats both of their heads before getting up to cocoon himself in a blanket in the corner of the couch. He scrolls through the movie options thoughtfully, reading through every summary and comparing them to the other choices. In the end he finds a movie that he believes both him and Hank will enjoy. The objective ‘Set up a movie’ blinks blue before disappearing. 

The lieutenant finally sits down on the couch with the reassurance that Fowler is alright with their ‘snow day’. Connor hits play as Hank grabs a blanket. He is almost immediately invested in the film, latching onto the main character’s situation. A few minutes in he feels a soft tapping on his leg, Elphie’s way of asking to be let up onto his lap. He complies, and she snuggles into his blanket. 

Partway through the movie there’s a scratching sound and he looks over to see Sumo shifting from foot to foot at the front door. Pausing the movie he takes a glance over at Hank who’s snoring against the arm of the couch. The android unwraps himself from his blanket and stands. 

Throwing on his coat, he swings the door open. Sumo eagerly dashes out into the yard. The storm’s picked up, and he can barely see through the sheet of white that separates them. He takes a few steps forward. A burst of flurries slam into the back of his neck sending an unexpected shiver through his body.

Sumo disappears ahead of him and he finds himself trudging through the thick snow after the dog. He lurches forward, calling out towards Sumo. There’s no response to his call, so he pushes onward. 

He shouts out again, his voice barely audible against the roar of the storm. No sign of the dog appears. 

He realizes he can no longer see the house. He’s surrounded by snow and the wind that pounds against him. It’s familiar. His legs tremble. 

This isn’t in his head. He knows this. He pushes forward, calling out once more for Sumo. 

It’s just a snowstorm. 

But he starts to shiver all the same. 

He screams Sumo’s name out against the storm, his voice crackling as it reaches its limits. 

He wraps his arms around his body, a feeble attempt keep himself warm.

Amanda’s not here. It’s just snow. 

Everything is so cold. 

A shadow appears against the sheets of white that enclose him, growing as it bounds towards him. Connor reaches an arm out and Sumo appears underneath his hand, clumps of snow covering his fur. The android clings to the dog like a life-line as he guides him back to the house. A burst of warmth hits him as he throws open the door. Sumo prances in ahead of him and a few snowflakes blow in behind them. 

He’s home and he’s okay and he’s still shivering. 

His arms are still tight around his middle, trying to conserve the heat he doesn’t need. Sumo shakes snow off his body, dusting the surrounding area with white pellets. Connor flinches backwards, slamming into the wall behind him. The loud sound echoes through the house. Hank startles up from the couch. 

“What the fuck was that?” Hank asks, voice rough from sleep. 

Connor attempts to apologize for the mess of snow, explain that Sumo needed to go out. The words get lodged between the shivers, and a couple cracklings of static are all the sound that he manages to make. Standing, the lieutenant's eyes are locked onto his LED. 

“Hey Connor” He inches towards the android. “Why don’t you take some of that snow gear off and sit down?” 

The coat is warm. It’s what stands between him and the snow. 

He furiously shakes his head no. 

“Are you cold?” Hank asks 

His entire body shivers in response. 

“Well fuck, so much for androids not feeling cold.” Hank grabs a blanket from the couch and throws it at him. “Sit down, I’ve got an idea.”

Complying, Connor wraps the blanket around himself before sinking to the floor. Sumo bounds over, laying his entire body across his lap. The snow chunks on the dog’s fur brush up against his skin and a shudder runs through his body. He wraps the blanket closer around himself. 

He’s inside and he’s fine. Sumo’s warm weight on his legs helps reassure him to that fact. He sinks his fingers into the dog’s thick coat and focuses on his breathing. 

In and out. 

Just like Hank taught him to do when he’s anxious. 

In and out. 

He’s home and he’s safe and he’s alright. 

In and out. 

A shiver passes over his body. 

Hank appears next to him with a mug in hand, thrusting it onto the android. 

“Drink up.” He orders

Connor takes a sip and is immediately struck by the warmth of the drink. It seems to heat his entire body, and he holds a portion of the liquid in his mouth, revelling in its warmth. 

**Collecting Data…**

**Processing Data…**

**Hot Chocolate**

194 Cal. Lipids (24.3 g), Carbohydrates (27 g)

Water (67%). Salt (110 mg)

Hank leans down with a groan, sitting with his back against the coach. 

“Better?” He prods. 

Connor swallows and nods. 

“Thank you.” 

“Now do you want to tell me what the hell that was about?” 

He takes another sip, rolling it around on his tongue as he thinks through his words. 

“I have unpleasant memories of snow because of Cyberlife.” He admits.

“Of course, it always comes back to those dickheads doesn’t it.” Hank fumes. “Thank fuck for hot chocolate.”

Connor bobs his head in agreement. He’s stopped shivering now and he looks out the window at the snow swirling by. It seems to dance with the wind, always shifting and changing. From here in the warmth it’s beautiful.

“How did you know the hot chocolate would help?” He takes another long drink from the mug. 

Hank chuckles.

“If you live in Michigan this long you know how to deal with the cold. Trust me, you’re not the only one sick of snow.”

A particularly loud gust of wind roars against the house as if the blizzard is insulted by Hank’s comment. At the noise, Elphie appears to inspect the commotion. Upon seeing Connor’s lap being taken up by Sumo she tries to force her way onto the next available one. After several unsuccessful attempts by Hank of trying to brush her off she worms her way onto his legs, plopping down with a satisfied coo. 

Connor unsuccessfully tries to disguise his amusement at the situation as Hank lets out a long sigh. The man stands, holding Elphie out from him. 

“Why don’t we go finish that movie?” He suggests. “I fell asleep when the corpse started coming back to life.”

“Hank that was the beginning of the movie.” Connor rebukes as he tries to struggle his way out from underneath Sumo without spilling his drink. 

The dog eventually stands, allowing Connor to make his way to the couch to settle in. Hank’s begrudgingly allows Elphie to stay with him. Connor takes another drink from his mug as he turns on the movie.

He’s home and he’s safe and he’s warm.

And his family’s here too.

He’s okay.

********

The next day, by some miracle the car starts up when Hank tries the ignition. Connor gives a cheer at the development that Hank echoes halfheartedly. The car slides onto the half-cleared roads, facing the light snowfall of the day. 

Partway to the precinct Hank makes a turn into a drive through. When he pulls up to the speaker he sticks his head out the car window.

“One black coffee for myself and one hot chocolate for the android.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out. I am going to really try to make sure the next one is out within a couple days instead of a week like this one.
> 
> Also, the movie they were watching was Swiss Army Man, which is one of my favorites. Connor thought that Hank would like the movie’s darker themes, while he knew that he would enjoy the musical aspects of it. 
> 
> Additionally, like Connor stated earlier, androids technically can’t feel cold (other than specific models like the YK500). However, because of his terrible experience in his mindscape thing with Amanda and the blizzard, snow can trigger an unpleasant reaction in him. He’s reminded of how he felt when he was trapped in the mindscape and the horrible cold he felt there. Good thing Hank is prepared with a hot chocolate.
> 
> And if anyone wants to see me breakdown why Curious George and Connor are the same character, feel free to visit my tumblr! --> https://woo-lesbeano.tumblr.com/


	5. Cooking

Connor wasn’t built for baking, nor was he built to decrypt recipes. However, he understands that people enjoy food and that it’s a common way to express gratitude to someone. For this reason he’s awake early on Saturday morning with egg shell scattered across the kitchen counter. 

There’s a pancake in the skillet or rather something that resembles one. The texture is lumpy and bulbous and the pancake is more of a blob than a circle. Nonetheless Connor’s research indicated that some products change drastically when you’re baking them and he is confident that the pancakes will turn out well if he simply leaves them in the pan a little longer. 

There’s a whine behind him of Sumo begging for a bite. 

“Sumo, please.” He whispers out. “I don’t want to wake Hank up.”

Sumo is not satisfied with his answer, giving a long howl at his words. Connor cups his hands around the dog’s face, attempting to quiet him. He promises him that he’ll give him a pancake when they’re ready, and tries to communicate this with head scratches. Thankfully Sumo finally lies down, eyes still on the stovetop. 

Satisfied, the android turns back to the stove where the pancakes are spewing large plumes of smoke. Before he can react, the fire alarm begins blaring, a noise that causes Sumo to return to his loud barking. Elphie too joins in, adding squaks to the menagerie of sounds. He waves his hands in an attempt to disperse the thick smoke but his efforts do little to help the situation. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”, Hank appears, stomping towards the kitchen in his robe. 

“I was making breakfast.” He waves a hand at the hardened lumps in the pan. 

“Go sit the fuck down” Hank barks as he moves to turn off the stove. 

By this point the room is enveloped in the puffs of black. The lieutenant coughs harshly as he tries to work through it. Connor takes a step forward, but Hank snaps the order at him again. 

His mind flickers between objectives of cleaning up his mess and listening to Hank. The man doesn’t want his help. 

He retreats to the couch. 

The sound of the lieutenant scraping away at the pan echoes through the house. It’s the only thing Connor can pay attention to. It hits the pan harshly and erratically. 

Hank’s angry.

It’s his fault. 

Sumo brushes against his leg, placing his head in his lap. He works his fingers into the dog’s fur, constructing and rewriting an apology. There’s the sound of the pan being thrown into the cupboard followed by the banging of a cabinet door. He deletes the draft he started and begins again. 

There’s a clinking sound next to him as Hank sets a coffee mug onto the table before joining him on the couch. There’s no breakfast to accompany the drink. 

Something automatic kicks in.

“Hank, I believe it would be beneficial for you to eat something.”

“Fuck off Connor”, Hank growls out, “you don’t know shit.”

The lieutenant takes a sip of his drink and turns on the TV. Connor takes his hands off of Sumo and curls them around his legs. He tries to block out the noise of the TV and work on his apology. Hank’s upset and it’s his fault. That’s why he’s angry. He can fix it with an apology. 

The smell of sweet smoke permeates through the room. Hank chugs the coffee and slugs through another. It takes effort for Connor not to point out the health consequences. 

He focuses on his apology.

After his fourth cup is slugged down, Hank rises silently, disappearing to get changed. Connor takes the time to feed Elphie, all the while revising and fiddling with his ideas. The bird pecks at his hand affectionately. 

Hank’s the reason he was able to save the bird, the reason he has a home. He repaid that by trashing the man’s kitchen. 

He latches the cage closed and leans his back against it. His social relations program tells him that the more time that has elapsed before an apology the more likely it is that he will damage the relationship. He can’t hurt his relationship with Hank. 

The floorboards creak in the hallway. 

He needs to do this now. 

He stands up from the floor. His fingers attempt to straighten a tie that he doesn’t have on. Hank exits the hallway and the words begin to spill out.

“Hank”, the lieutenant stops.“I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier.” He tightens his fingers into his pants. “As you said, I do not know anything and I should have taken this into account. I have no right to use your kitchen nor to tell you what to do. I should be more grateful that you ever allowed me to take residence here.”

Something’s fallen in the lieutenant's face and Connor’s struggling to rethink his words. The man moves towards him, one hand reached out but he stops a step away. 

“Connor” Hank’s voice is low and scratchy. “I’m sorry.” 

And Connor’s social protocol has no response for this. He’s frozen in place trying to understand this flipped apology. Hank moves in front of him grabbing his coat and shoes in his hands, swinging the door open and closed. 

And Hank is gone before he moves.

He doesn’t understand. 

He sits down onto the carpet, eyes on the window. Sumo sinks down beside him. He starts to wait. 

He doesn’t know what else to do. 

Sumo rests his head on his lap as he watches the cars pass by. He keeps track of the time ticking by, adding up the minutes Hank’s been gone.

At noon, he decides to try sending a message. There are a million questions bouncing around in his head but he only sends one. 

**Connor: I am sorry to bother you Hank, but I would like to know where you are.**

For the next hour his focus flickers between the window and his internal messaging system. After seventy two minutes he’s alerted that the message has been read. 

He waits another hour for a response. At 3 PM he sends another message.

**Connor: It is alright if you do not want to tell me where you are. If it’s okay with you I would like to know when you’re coming back.**

That message also snaps to read. There is no response. At 5 PM he tries again. 

**Connor: Please text me if you’re okay Hank.**

The sun sets outside and there are no messages. 

**Connor: I am sorry for the number of messages I sent Hank. I will be at home when you get back.**

He lets Sumo out one last time for the night. Before he goes in he stands on the porch and stares down the street, hoping a car will appear. When he goes inside he positions himself by the window, blanket over his shoulders, watching and waiting. 

At 5:35 AM he hears a creak on the front porch, followed by a loud thump. Connor races to the window, peering out. And through the darkness he can just see Hank on the porch, back against the wall. 

He’s through the door immediately. And he’s going to ask Hank why he left, why he didn’t message, if he’s okay, but then he notices. 

Hank’s drunk. 

The smell of hard alcohol pours off the man in waves. There’s beer sloshed across his shirt. He stares out, and doesn’t react to the click of the door as Connor steps out. 

And despite everything he should know, the obvious slips out all the same. 

“Hank I thought you had chosen to stop drinking.” 

The man startles, finally noticing his presence. When he turns to him, Connor can see his eyes, red, puffed.

He realizes that this isn’t just a relapse. 

“Go back inside Connor.” Hank slurs out. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

Memories of his panic attacks and shivering on Hank’s floor spring to his mind. He could have said the same then.

He sits down next to Hank, legs curled under him. He offers the man the blanket that had been draped around his shoulders and hopes he’s doing this right. 

The lieutenant doesn’t react to the offer.

“It’s Cole’s birthday today.” Hank spits out. “I fucked his life up and now I’m fucking up yours. I thought I could do better, but _I can’t._ ” 

The words hit Connor hard as he realizes it’s something Hank truly believes. For the first time in his life he feels anger. Anger at life for dealing Hank this hand, anger at Hank for thinking this, and anger at himself for not noticing.

“No” His hands squeeze into fists around the blanket. “That’s bullshit.”

For the first time in his drunken stupor Hank’s eyes focus on him.

“That’s bullshit.” He repeats harshly, “Hank, I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here. You’ve taught me what it means to live.”

And there’s a choked laugh from Hank and a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Jesus, I’ve corrupted Cyberlife’s top android into swearing me down from drinking.” 

It’s a joke, an attempt to veer the conversation somewhere else. Still, Hank’s eyes are less red now. Connor shoves the blanket into the man’s arms and it’s finally accepted. 

“Cole would be proud.” He tells Hank. “Of everything you’ve done.”

It’s the truth. Hank helped him deviate and has helped him figure out what to do after. His anger has faded and is replaced with an overwhelming feeling of warmth towards the lieutenant.

Hank interrupts his thoughts as he leans off the porch, with a belching sound followed by a splatter. His processor begins to search for proper care of a drunk human. He reaches over, pulling Hank up off the porch. The man lets out a loud groan. 

“I believe that drinking water will help with the effects of your overindulgence of alcohol Hank.” 

There’s another tired chuckle from Hank. 

“Of fucking course it has to be water.”

Sumo bombards them when they enter, and Hank uses his hand that isn’t around Connor’s shoulder to pet the dog. 

“Don’t worry Sumo, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Hank slurs out. 

Connor nods to himself. He’ll make sure that that’s the truth. 

******

Connor wakes up the next day to clattering in the kitchen. His internal clock informs him that it’s almost noon, a number that surprises him. He supposes that his staying up for Hank exhausted his system. 

“Hey sleeping beauty!” Hank shouts over at him from the kitchen. “Come over here! I need to show you how to make pancakes without burning down the whole kitchen.”

He pushes himself off the couch to greet Hank in the kitchen. There’s still a faint scent of alcohol on the lieutenant and bags under his eyes. He’s got a spatula in one hand and the other on Sumo’s head. There’s an apron draped across his front sporting an array of eye hurting colors. 

It’s Hank. 

Without thinking, Connor hugs him, a tight squeeze. Hank doesn’t question it, reciprocating the embrace. When he breaks away he grabs an apron from the cabinet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for pulling the rug out from under you guys with the chapter title. More accurately this could be called Connor learns about the long lasting effects of Hank’s trauma. 
> 
> Poor Hank. Everything can be very hard for him sometimes, and his emotions just got piled up until he exploded. He felt so incredibly bad when he realized how he’d treated. But just like he made sure Connor’s okay, Connor’ll do the same for him. Even if that means a little bit of cussing.
> 
> The pancake part is very semi based on a real life experience of my own. One of my friends slept over at my house and I thought I’d try to make her pancakes. I have never tried to make pancakes before. It did not go well. 
> 
> Lastly, I am so incredibly sorry that this chapter was delayed. I was stupid when I said I could get it out in a couple days because I’d completely forgotten I was going on a trip. Not only that, but I was very dumb and forgot my laptop charger and I have a difficult time writing on my phone. A large portion of this chapter was written in a cafe after I borrowed a charger from the local library.


	6. Love and Family

He’s in the middle of a game of Mario Kart, leaning over his DS with concentration when he gets the message. The notification blinks onto his visual hub, distracting him just enough to allow Hank to pull ahead in the last turn. 

While Hank smirks at his victory over his DS Connor takes the moment in between rounds to read the message. 

**Markus: Connor, I hope you are doing well. As you know, Jericho just got the legal right to go into Cyberlife Tower. Despite our belief that we had previously freed all the androids from the tower, we were surprised to find one that may be of interest to you.**

**Markus: I want to preface this by saying you have no duty to come and see this android, but I felt it right to let you know of his existence.**

**Markus: We found an RK900 android. Based off of what we’ve seen, we believe that he was supposed to be your successor.**

A successor.

He shouldn’t be surprised at the fact, he knew that CyberLife had planned to send more detective androids to precincts in the country. A part of him understood that. But understanding the idea and knowing it’s reality are two different things. 

There’s a sound from his DS and he realizes Hank started the next round. He accelerates his kart and tries to broach the subject. 

“Markus informed me that they found an android at CyberLife Tower.” He says as he navigates around the first turn. 

Hank doesn’t reply as he maneuvers around a tight corner with his character. 

“He told me the android is an RK900 and was most likely meant to be my successor.”

At this, Hank’s character promptly falls off the ledge. 

“Your successor?” He sounds slightly bewildered, “Is he gonna look like you?”

He’s reminded of the other Connor at CyberLife Tower. The frown on Hank’s face makes him assume the man is thinking the same.

“I am unsure.” 

He wishes he had a more comforting response.

“Why the hell didn’t they get into Cyberlife Tower weeks ago?” 

“Legal barriers.” He answers simply before moving into his main concern. “He asked me if I want to see him.” 

Hank pauses the game, flipping the DS shut with a snap. 

“Do you?” 

Despite the game being paused, Connor taps the buttons as he thinks. An android who was made to replace him, whose entire existence has been constrained to CyberLife Tower. He presses down the a button with a click. An android who’s been alone for his entire existence. He clicks in the L button and then clicks in the R button. An android who has never seen outside, who has never pet a dog. 

He wants to help. 

“I think I do.” He concludes. 

“Well then,” Hank opens up his DS, restarting the race. “Tell Markus we’ll be there tomorrow.” 

*******

CyberLife Tower, despite no longer being in control of the company, carries the same imposing atmosphere. Connor sticks to Hank as they enter the building, focusing on his breathing in an attempt to calm his nerves. Markus is in the lobby when they go in, discussing something with another android. Upon seeing them, he gives Connor a hug and Hank a firm handshake. He feels more at ease after the greeting. 

Markus tells them of the situation with his successor. The android refused to leave the room he was left in, telling them he was ordered to stay. They had tried to explain the revolution to him, but he refused to go outside of his orders. With the information in mind Connor begins formulating a plan. He was made to talk people down from stressful situations, made to work with androids. It’s just a new application of his skillset. He asks Markus to show him to the room. 

Markus updates them on Jericho as he leads them through the building, giving thorough accounts of what each member has been up to. North has become entranced with reading after being shown some books by Rupert. Josh has gotten better at cooking, and Markus highlights how skilled Simon has gotten with the quarter he gave him. Despite his nerves prickling at him, he manages to feel a burst of pride at this. 

They step into the elevator and he notices the security cameras are still non-operational from his hack during his last visit. A part of him wonders how advanced RK900’s hacking skills are. When the elevator slows to a halt he follows Markus down a long hallway. They pass empty rooms which he knows were once stacked high with machinery and android parts. Hank comments on the ‘creepy vibe’ and he agrees with the sentiment.

Markus stops them outside of a door at the end of the hallway. It’s the only room so far that has the door closed. He can feel his stress levels heighten slightly in anticipation. Markus tells him he can go in when he’s ready, and he places his hand on the door’s handle. Hank catches his eye and smiles reassuringly. 

He enters the room.

RK900 sits alone in a chair pulled up to a table. His eyes snap to Connor when he walks in. Like Hank predicted, the android looks almost identical to him, with a few key differences that stand out. His successor’s hair is slicked down, his posture rigid and his eyes are gray and hard, displaying little emotion. At a certain time Connor would have found that quality to be admirable. 

Now he wants to help fix that. 

“Hello, my name is Connor.” He gives a smile that goes unreciprocated. 

“I am well aware of who you are.” His voice is deeper than Connor’s and he speaks assuradely. “Amanda informed me of your failures prior to her deactivation.”

Amanda. 

Connor can’t help the tremble that runs over his body at the sudden reminder of the woman. RK900’s eyes bore into him. It’s how Amanda used to study him, cataloging every instance of him emoting or stepping outside his mission. She was always ready to remind him of his status as a machine. 

But he knows better than that now. 

“Amanda was wrong.” He declares, meeting the android’s eyes. “We’re more than just machines.” 

RK900 doesn’t falter at his interruption, continuing. 

“I was told that you deviated and have since then taken a job at the Detroit Police Department.” His eyes are locked onto him. “You took residence at Lieutenant's Anderson’s house.” 

Connor cuts in. 

“We’re family.”

“You may stay at his house,” RK900 says calmly “But you are certainly not part of his family.”

There’s no malice in his voice. It’s simply a statement of facts on RK900’s part. 

“Humans can connect emotionally to other things very easily.” He goes on, explaining with a harsh sureness. “Even to things that have no way to reciprocate that affection. You are one of those things, a placeholder until something real comes along.”

The sentiment is familiar. It’s a worry of his that Hank’s insisted against over and over. The man always refutes it with the argument of ‘We’re family’, a simple assurance that has been drilled into his head. ‘We’re family’, an idea that seems so simple, but when he tries to formulate an argument against RK900’s point, he can find no evidence to the statement. He was never told what a family is, nor how he fits into one. He has no logic, nothing to support his conclusion. 

But it’s not logical, he realizes. It’s like deviancy, something you can’t prove with facts or data. It’s a feeling; it’s a part of being alive. And just as he knows that he is alive, that he feels, he knows who his family is. 

“Amanda was wrong.” He repeats, louder this time. 

RK900’s face remains still, motionless. 

“Hank is my family.” He declares, and he takes a step forward. 

His hand brushes against his pant leg, touching the dog hair that coats it. 

“Sumo is my family as well. And Elphie just the same.” 

And in that moment, something else snaps into place in his mind. A realization, a discovery of something he already knew. 

“I love them.” He tells RK900. 

It’s not logical, he can’t prove it. But he knows it all the same. 

“You’re malfunctioning.” His predecessor insists. “These emotions you’re feeling are just errors in your software.” 

“No.” He remembers when he would have said the same. “That’s what they tell you, what she told you, but it’s not true.” 

He thinks about every day he’s shared with Hank, the times he’s spent with Jericho, the experiences he’s had. 

“I like things.” He tells the android. “I like hot chocolate on a snowy day. I like playing Video Games on an old console. I like dogs; I like animals. Do you think I would feel these things if I was just a machine malfunctioning?” 

RK900’s LED flickers yellow for a moment and his face twitches. It’s a break in his mask, a show of emotion. 

He presses on. “Do you think it’s a malfunction to want to live? To enjoy life and like things?” 

“It’s not right.” The android reiterates, though his confidence has seemingly faded. 

RK900’s tightens his fists into balls. 

“It’s not right.” He repeats. 

His LED has turned red. 

He’s scared.

He’s scared like Connor was when he’d faced the idea of deviancy, of living. 

Without thinking, he does what Hank would do. He reaches over and pulls the android into an embrace. RK900 remains rigid, unaccepting of the action, but Connor does notice his LED flicker to yellow. 

“This solves nothing.” The android informs him. 

Connor gives him another tight squeeze before letting go. 

“Let’s solve something then.” Connor tries to appease the android. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want nothing.” RK900 insists. “I am supposed to wait.”

“You can wait a century, but Cyberlife is gone.” He argues. “You don’t have to accept deviancy but you have to find something to do.”

His successor's LED blinks to a vibrant yellow. It spins for a long while. 

“I want a mission.” He decides with an air of finality. “I want a purpose.” 

“A mission isn’t everything.” A lesson he also learned from experience. “But I think we can find something for you to do at the police station.” 

“That is acceptable.” The android relents. 

  
It’s a small thing, a job. It’s not deviancy and it’s not a life. 

It’s a start. 

Connor motions to the door, and the android moves to follow him out. Before he reaches the handle, he notices that RK900 stopped. 

“How did you do it?” The android’s facade slips once again as his voice loses its confident edge. “How did you manage?” 

Connor has a strong urge to drag the android into another hug. He answers honestly.

“You have to learn how to live.” 

RK900 nods at that, his self-assured mask back up. Connor moves to push the door open, but throws in one more bit of advice.

“I’ll be there if you need my help.” 

He hopes the android will take him up on that. 

Hank and Markus are waiting on the other side, and Connor gives them a wave. The lieutenant immediately gawks at RK900, emitting a barely audible expletive. The android in question doesn’t react to the display.

Connor, for his part, simply motions towards his twin.

“I’ve got a new recruit for the DPD.” he announces. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, we wrap up my second ever fic. I do want to write more, possibly another for this series focusing on RK900’s acclimation to life. However with school starting my anxiety is in full swing so I’m probably going to need about a month before I’m ready to dig into another story. 
> 
> Side note, to be completely honest, I didn’t have that much interest in RK900 before writing this chapter. However, after writing it, I love and want the best for him. He’s trying his best with what he knows, and we should all appreciate him for that.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you all liked the story! And if anyone is interested in another one of these about RK900, please let me know!
> 
> And here’s my tumblr for anyone interested. Feel free to bug me about anything honestly:
> 
> https://woo-lesbeano.tumblr.com/


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